Of Farmers, Heros
by FallRose
Summary: While all the colonies are focused on the events in Boston and Philadelphia leading up to the American Revolution, how were the outskirts of Boston effected? Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

February, 1775

I was thirteen that year, Henry was nineteen, Deborah seventeen, Samson fifteen, Hannah eleven, Abby nine, Thomas six, Lydia four, Milly three, and the babe, Rebekah, one. We were a brood, Father would call us his trees, individually, but together, we were his woods.

Father and my older brothers were often leaving during the evenings to go off to William Prescott's house. In the beginning we were all curious as to what they were playing at. I had tried to follow once, but Deborah caught me and dragged me back by my braid to a loathsome pile of mending. With all those siblings there is a never-ending supply of mending to be done. But, as time wore on, my siblings and I figured out what Father and our brothers were up to. We were no simpletons. We knew the price of tea and the King's unfair taxes. We knew of the on-goings in Boston and Philadelphia and the talkings of men like Benjamin Franklin, Paul Revere, and the Adams cousins.

We no longer drank tea in our house, nor did most of our neighbors in Groton, Massachusetts. The winter of 74-75 was a brutal one, full of snow and ice, and we sure missed drinking the hot beverage at times, but we were true Americans, some of Father's ancestors had come here from England on the Mayflower. If Father told us that it was for America that we had to give up our tea, then for America we would. Plus, I preferred hot chocolate.

"Sarah!" sister Deborah called in that tone, interrupting my reading. Deborah had grown rather bossy lately, I guess that was because with Mother caring for Grandfather Woods, who was ill, and Father and the boys off at Prescott's so often, she did have rule of the forest at times. I slumped in the chair, _what could she want now?_, "Don't forget to feed the animals!—make sure you bundle up, 'tis freezing out there!"

_Of course it is freezing out there _I thought as I gathered my cloak, mittens, scarf, and hat, '_tis Groton, Massachusetts in the middle of February—I think I know how to dress myself for the weather. _I let the back door slam behind me as I left. Deborah had been in a foul mood and had been bossing me about all morning. Older sisters!

"Twenty-three steps precisely from back door to barn door," I said to no one in particular as I reached the barn. Father had always told us to count the steps in between house and barn so come winter's worst weather we could find their way to and from safely. Occasionally, Father would put a rope in between the two so all you would have to do is follow the rope. Mother was always worried about us getting lost out in a storm in between house and barn. One of her friend's daughters was found frozen to death just feet from the house. The child had lost sight in a blizzard and was unable to make in back to the house.

Entered the barn, I scolded myself for having naught brought my reading with me, it was much quieter in the barn than the house and sitting among the sweet-smelling hay was almost warm. But, woe to me I had left it in the front room when I went out and would have to finish it later, probably much later for I feared Deborah would have a list of things to do and when Mother came home from Nana and Grandfather Woods' she too would most likely tell me either my stitches in a hem were too wobbly or reprimand be for not practicing patience in my chores. I tried hard and was most accomplished in the art of womandery, but I longed for adventure and would tend to hurry through boring chores in order to have more time for tasks that brought me much more amusement.

Instead of reading, I talked to the animals. The barn cat was such a love, she would walk right up to me and nuzzle my leg until I picked her up and petted her until she was contently purring in my arms. I think I stayed in the barn for at least an hour, escaping my chores. Finally, I decided to go back indoors. To my great surprise, young Samuel Prescott, Oliver Prescott's son, was approaching the house.

"Hullo Sarah! Lovely weather we've been having."

"Lovely weather for a snow beast!" I laughed. "Pray, what brings you to our stead on this chilly afternoon?"

"I was wondering if your brother Samson was home."

This puzzled me, "He is at your Uncle William's? Why are you not there with the other men?"

"I was in Boston on an errand for Uncle. I picked up something for Samson that he will be eager to have."

"Ooo tell me about Boston! Come into the house and warm yourself!—we have coffee" my face growing red from both excitement and cold, I loved Boston.

Samuel brought his horse towards the barn, "Let me put Pretty in the barn and I will tell you all about my trip. You would love Boston, Sarah. It is so much more exciting than here."

"I do love Boston! I wish Father would take us there more often."

"I'll take you someday, if you like." Samuel smiled shyly at me. His words made my heart skip a beat—was he flirting with me? Oh, he is so handsome with his big brown eyes—eyes which I could not look straight into without turning red. I lowered my eyes and smiled, "I would like that very much."

Suddenly feeling very awkward around a boy I had known my entire life; I led him inside the house and fidgeted about the kitchen before pouring his a cup of coffee, "What did you get for Samson?" I asked. Samson and Samuel were best mates. Samson was but a few months older and the two of them had quite a head for adventure and mischief. Sometimes when they were younger they would allow me to tag along on some of their misdeeds, but mother was none too happy about any of that.

He pulled a long, thin bundle from his bag and laid it out on the table and slowly untied the twine revealing a beautiful Brown Bess musket.

"Oh Samuel, it's beautiful. Samson will love it." I admired the fine craftsmanship of the gun I knew would become my brother's pride and joy. Deborah, Hannah and Thomas soon joined us in the kitchen and they too admired the beautiful musket.

"Do you think Samson will let me hunt with it sometime?" Thomas asked Deborah eagerly, his fingertips gently brushing up and down the length of the musket.

"I think Samson has greater plans than hunting with this fine musket." Samuel answered him.


	2. Chapter 2

My mother always had said Samson could not have nice things for he was careless, but oh how he cared for that musket! Every night after super when the family gathered 'round the hearth, Samson would sit in his chair and care for it. He would clean it or work on a pouch to hold his shot, or do some other activity which would involve that gun. Henry would peer up from his reading, time and again, and watch. I could see jealousy in his eyes. But Henry was too fine a man to say so. Henry's musket was given to him by our father years ago. Worn with use and time, it did not compare to Samson's new one. But Samson had quietly earned the money himself to pay for it and his sweat and heart and been put into obtaining the gun, it was only right that his efforts be rewarded with something so fine.

"May I hold it?" Thomas asked one night, losing interest in his toys soldiers and gaining interest in being a solider himself. Thomas was one to plan out battles with his soldiers and play them out, father and my brothers sometimes helped him strategize. It was quiet clever to watch; Thomas took great care in trying to plan out the next move, like one would do with a game of chess or checkers.

"If you are careful, little man," Samson beckoned Thomas to him and softly started showing Thomas how to aim the unloaded weapon.

"You use one like this to hunt with," Samson said softly as he gently adjusted the way Thomas was holding it. "Both eyes open lad, remember 'aim small, miss small.'"

"Aye, but this one is much finer than my hunting musket. . . . Are you going to shoot Red Coats with this?" Thomas inquired. The question was too much for my mother. She slammed her needlework down and sent us all to bed.

"There will be no talk amongst children about shooting others and war. To bed all of you—and Samson, you not will care for that gun during family time any more. You will do it outside or in the barn!"

"Yes Mother," Samson hung his head in shame and left the room to put away his beloved musket as the rest of us quickly gathered our things and filed up the stairs to our respective rooms.

There was always tension between mother and father regarding separation from England. Mother's family was loyal to the King, her roots in the colonies were not as deep as father's; he could trace his family to the Mayflower. Mother did not agree with the taxation and treatment of the colonists, but she did go so far as to believe war should be declared. She was a firm believer in negotiation. Father believed if justified and no other arrangement could be reached, war was necessary. My brothers agreed. They viewed war as glorious, especially Samson. How often had we played war as children? Samson throwing himself into battle on the side of good, or bravely rescuing a fair maiden from an evil captor. That is how we saw war: A battle between good and evil, to those who have not lived through it they will never know its actual horrors, stories are only written of the glory days, they do not talk about fatherless children and mothers who cry at night because their sons are no more for this world. Father had been in the Seven Year's War. He knew of war and its affects not only on the battlefield but on civilians as well. War is not romantic.


	3. Chapter 3

By winter's end we were growing restless. New England winters are long and twelve in a four bedroom farmhouse can cause uneasy tempers. I longed to be at my grandfather's and go out in his boat. To go for walks in the woods and see the earth come alive again. But that spring was ridden with death.

The warmth of spring was creeping into the air, that March day. I was helping Lydia practice her letters when Cousin John came galloping into the yard. The state of his mud splattered clothing told that he had rode hard over the soft earth to reach our place. John would not have ridden like that if there was not an emergency. Mother came out of the kitchen to meet him, wiping her hands nervously over her apron.

"John, whatever is wrong?" she asked.

"Father sent me, 'tis grandfather; he is failing fast. Uncle Henry should make haste if he would like to see his father alive." John said out of breath.

Mother's hands flew up to her mouth, Hannah and Lydia started sobbing as they ran to Mother. I stood in shock. Grandfather? There was confusion amongst my siblings as I; we had seen him recently and he was in good spirits and fast improving from his illness, what had gone wrong?

Father took off immediately for his family home, followed close behind by Cousin John while we bundled up and soon trailed after in the carriage. Approaching my grandfather's house, I saw the family graveyard where they were my father's brothers were buried; Ephraim, Thomas, Jonas and Samson. All had fought in the French and Indian War with Father and Uncle Isaac, and all had perished. Now spending eternity on the hill where they would sled down together as children, alongside their infant sister, Prudence, who lived but a month. Soon Grandfather Isaac would be reunited with his sons and daughters. I could not bear the thought of not having my beloved grandfather near anymore; I rested my head in Samson's shoulder and wept slightly in the carriage until we reached the house.

When we entered the yellow farmhouse, it was eerily quiet, a phenomenon which never happened when all the Ames and Woods grandchildren were together. My father had joined his remaining brothers and ascended the stairs to the death room. We cousins sat in silence as our parents said their good-byes. What seemed like hours later, with heavy heads they filed out of the room: Isaac, Nehemiah, Caleb, Father, and Solomon. As they approached the landing to the stairs, Uncle Robert bowed his head in respect to his brothers-in law and solemnly walked past into the bedroom which was once Aunt Sarah' s and closed the door. Aunt Sarah had passed away in November, the only sister to nine brothers, and soon after grandfather took ill. She left behind five children, all younger than I; I could not imagine ever losing mother or father. Aunt Sarah's death was hard on poor Uncle Robert and now he had lost a wife and was losing a beloved father figure in less than half a year's time.

The men proceeded down the stairs to their mother. Nana looked cold and lifeless as Uncle Solomon and Father led her to her chambers to say good-bye to the man she had spent over fifty years with. Father took his mother's hand in his and brought it to his lips before helping to lead her up the stairs and Uncle Solomon wrapped his arm behind her back to steady her as she ascended to say her last good-byes.

Grandfather passed away peacefully on the 31st of March in the year of our Lord Seventeen hundred and seventy-five, surrounded by his family who loved him dearly. He was buried on the hill in the family graveyard overlooking his grand property and lying amongst the children he loved dearly.

The minister spoke about the great deeds he had done for the colonies and for the towns of Groton and Pepperell, Massachusetts. He spoke of how grandfather was a lieutenant in the British army and suffered the loss of four of his sons in the French and Indian War, but still kept his faith in the Lord our God.

"_Ashes to ashes,"_ the old minister said as he sprinkled bits of earth into the grave,_ "dust to dust_." My cousins and I each walked passed a dropped a flower onto the coffin. I paused a moment after dropping my flower, not ready to say good-bye. Samson was behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder and his other on Deborah as she came up after him with Henry and the four of us stood in silence, staring into the cold ground which would forever house our beloved grandfather.

In sober blacks and grays we sat in the old wooden meetinghouse with the magistrate as he went over the will. With each step he took the floorboards groaned beneath him. Straight-backed we sat, alongside our families on the hard wooden benched. Thomas twisted back to get a glimpse of Cousin Robert Ames, a favorite playmate of his, but Deborah reached over me and tapped his knee, a reminder that this was a sober moment. He shifted back into seat and hunched over in disappointment and boredom.

"_In the Name of God Amen this Ninth Day of March_," The magistrate's voice cut through the eerie silence like a knife._ "In the year of our Lord Christ on Thousand Seven Hundred and Seventy Five and in the fifteenth year of the Reign of George the Third, King—" _Uncle Solomon interrupted with a loud cough. Grandfather had updated his will just weeks ago! Thomas and I looked quizzically at Deborah; we had all thought he was on the mend, not accepting his fate and preparing to join his heavenly father. She closed one eye and furrowed her brow; a sign that she thought something was amiss.

The magistrate continued reading the will and we turned our attention back to the center of the room. I looked down at my small white hands, folded in my lap atop the black wool dress that I had not worn since Aunt Sarah's passing, Oh how I wished to be anywhere but in the meetinghouse at that moment!

Naturally, Grandfather left his household to Nana, but he also bequeathed half to Uncle Solomon as he was to stay on the farm with his family and care for his elderly mother.

_I bequeath to my son Isaac Woods his heirs_ the magistrate droned on about the land in Townshed and Pepperrell. _Also I give and bequeath to my son Henry Woods his heirs_ my ears perked up at the sound of my father's name and I glanced around to see my siblings all sitting a little straighter on the bench. _Assigns forever all my Right in Suncook in the Province of New Hampshire and the other half of my land and meadow at the place called the Trough aforesaid after my wife's decease and not to come into possession before and this with what I have_ _heretofore given him and what shall be hereafter mentioned in this will is his full portion out of my Estate._ New Hampshire? We had land in New Hampshire? I tried, but I could not recall ever visiting this land which my father now owned. 'Twould be an adventure to go see this plot, I had never been outside the Massachusetts colony. The prospect of an adventure occupied my thoughts for a brief second before remembering how my father had come across owning this land.

_To my son Nehemiah Woods his heirs and assigns forever the sum of Five pounds Lawful money_ I would say land was far better prize than money, and Nehemiah being an elder son! Grandfather left to Uncle Caleb a sum of money as well, but Caleb was nearly the babe of the family with just twenty-eight year old Uncle Solomon his junior.

_. . . my five Grandchildren Robert Ames, Sara Ames, Prudence Ames, Bethiah Ames, and Molly Ames so and daughters of my daughter Ames deceased the sum of_ Uncle Robert looked grave as he listened to his children's inheritance, followed by Uncle Ephraim's children Vir Sibel, Rebecka, and Levina's inheritance. Where I could barely imagine a world without my grandfather, but a world without my mother or father was unthinkable.


	4. Chapter 4

For almost a week our little family seemed to forget the troubles of the outside world, we were engulfed in our own little tragedy. Death is part of the natural course of one's life, but my siblings and I still felt that grandfather's death was untimely and unjust, even in his old age. Someone once told me that it is appointed for all men to die, the tragedy is not a death after a life well lived but the death for one who has yet a chance to live; my grandfather had lived.

"I am sorry to hear about your grandfather," a voice interrupted my thoughts as Samuel Prescott found me in the barn brushing Beauty's mane and handed me a dismal looking bouquet of slightly blossomed flowers.

"Thank you," I replied and allowed one corner of my lips to travel upwards in a small smile at his kind gesture.

"I am sorry; the flowers have not had a chance to bloom. I did not have much to choose from nor did I want to arrive empty handed." He confessed looking at his meager pickings. He casted his eyes down and scuffed the ground with his toe.

"Tis lovely," I assured him and gathered the courage to lightly kiss his cheek in gratitude. But he must have turned his head or something, I know naught, but my lips were softly on his and I felt butterflies in my stomach. To this day I swear I saw his ears turn red after the little peck as he seemed to lose his wits for a moment before gathering his composure again. He stifled a cough and then in a gruff voice asked the whereabouts of Samson and Henry. Boys are so peculiar at that age. But as he turned from me to go off in search of his friends, I brought my fingertips to my lips to feel the linger of his kiss, as well as the heat from my oh so red face. I smiled to myself as I watched him walk away.

In bed that night, as Deborah and I buried ourselves under the heavy blankets for warmth I tried to gather the courage to speak to her about Samuel—I was so confused by his behavior at times! I had known him almost my entire life, I knew the meaning behind every loaded breath and the tones in his voice, and yet now there was something different and I could not explain it. Deborah would be able to help, she was seventeen and men had already asked father for permission to court her, however, she or father for that matter, had turned many of them down. But she was tired that night and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow so I had not the chance to speak to her. "There is always tomorrow night," I thought as I drifted off to sleep dreaming of Samuel bringing me bunches upon bunches of summer wildflowers and traveling to Boston together and the touch of his lips on mine.

Ahh, yes, I think there was a smile on my face as I slept, but my pretty fantasies were soon disrupted by a pounding on our door which jolted me from my peaceful sleep. I awoke and turned to Deborah, who was already sitting upright, with a questioning look on my face. Bringing a finger to her lips she shushed me and bided me to follow her as she crept out of bed to open the bedroom door a crack and peer out. Noticing that three other bedroom doors were doing the same thing, she opened ours a tad wider to see Oliver Prescott standing at our door. Dr. Samuel Prescott had sounded the alarm that the British were bound from Boston to Cambridge, on the road to Lexington and Concord!

While our town was not on the main route of the famous rides of Paul Revere, William Dawes, and Dr. Samuel Prescott, these men had triggered a widespread communication system we called "alarm and muster." Once used in the early years of Indian wars, this network of express riders, bells, drums, alarms, bonfires and trumpets notified town to town that they should gather their militias. This system was so effective that people in towns 40 kilometers from Boston were aware of the British's movements while they were still unloading boats in Cambridge!

Cupping my mother's chin in his hands, Father looked steadily into her eyes, "I must go," he told her in a calm but stern voice.

Lowering her eyes, she replied clear as day, "Aye, it must be done." Her approval flamed father's sprit and he called for Henry and Samson. I stepped into the hall to watch Henry clamor down the steps, fully dressed and as alert as if he had been awake for hours, as for Samson I cannot say as much. He groggily sauntered down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and tucking his shirt into his breeches with 'tother.

Pulling the muskets off their pegs in the cabinet, Henry paused before handing the musket to Samson, "We shall see what this fine musket can do," and placed it in our brother's hands. Gazing up from the musket in his hands Henry and Samson stared eye to eye for a moment, a shared thought passed through them. They knew they were about to be a part of something great, a part of history in this new world.

"Shoot 'em Redcoats!" Thomas called after them happily, waving his fists in the air. Samson chuckled and gave the little general a salute.

"We will be safe mother; we will come back to you." Henry promised our mother quietly and kissed her check. And with that they were gone.

Mother slowly closed the door behind them, watching them ride off into the night. With the final click of the latch sliding into place she let her hand linger on the door and rested her head on the frame, regaining her composure. I could see he back shake once or twice and she fought back tears. "To bed!" she whirled around and called up at us, "To bed to bed!" she waved her arms as one does with heading sheep. With that all our bedroom doors shut and we were back under our covers.

"What do you think will happen?" I asked Deborah as I crawled next to her for warmth.

"It will be nothing," she said scooting farther under the covers and rolling over on her side.

"I assure you 'tis not _nothing_, war is coming, they talk of it all the time."

"Aye, but they also talk about ways to avoid a war with England. War is not the answer; there are negotiations still to be done. A conflict can be avoided."

"Do you really think that?" I questioned her.

"I believe that."

"What you believe and what you think may be two different thoughts. But which one is truth and which one is your desire?"

She rolled over to look at me for the first time, but our conversation was interrupted by the sound of small clicks on the glass.

Deborah sat upright, "Do you hear that?"

I cocked my head for a second to listen, before getting out of bed and peering out the window, where, to my surprise, was Samuel throwing stones at my window!

Pushing up the window I whispered loudly to him "Samuel Prescott dost thou know what time it is?"

"I came to awakith the fair maiden," he teased.

"What be it you want?" now annoyed with his 2 a.m. antics.

"Out there the world is happening and I will be damned if I am not a part of it, let alone do not witness it."

"And you felt the urge to tell me this at this late hour? Why did you not go with your father then?"

"Father told me to stay at home. And, as my most faithful friend, I came here to ask you to come with me and witness the history we read about in books unfold before our eyes. Besides, I know how you always wanted an adventure." I cross my heart there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Samuel did not have to repeat his request; I quickly grabbed a dark dress out of the clothes press and pulled it over my head.

"You are not truly going out at this hour!" Deborah confronted me. She crawled out on bed, closed the door of the clothes press and crossed her arms as if to assert her dominance.

"I am," I saw no reason why not.

"Tis improper! You are going out after curfew and with a man to whom you are not betrothed." Her eyes were quiet wide at this point; she was not mad, she was astounded.

"It is Samuel; I have known him since we were babes. Please tie me up before I am even more improper by going out with my dress undone!" I lifted my hair to reveal the back of my dress and Deborah obliged, lacing up my dress so tightly I could barely breathe. Squeezing me to death with my laces, now that is how is how she was passive aggressively showing her annoyance.

"And what shall I tell mother?" she questioned as I grabbed my cloak.

"That, I do not know. The truth? I know that I will never forget what I am about to see, no matter how the tide turns." And with that I tiptoed out the room, down the stairs and out the back door to meet Samuel.

"Sarah!" I heard her whisper loudly as I closed the door, leaving a very bewildered sister in my room.

She later told me she wished she had the courage to have gone with me, but you see, my sister was a slave to decorum. She constantly worried about what others thought and prided herself on being a 'gentlewoman.' She thought before she acting, a trait which many of her siblings did not inherit.

"I am glad you will join me," Samuel greeted me on the side of my father's house with a smile and lit a lantern for me.

My stomach was full of butterflies; I had never done something so darning.

"Where are we going?" I asked, finally gathering some sense.

"Lexington."

"Lexington? But that is near thirty-five kilometers from here! How are to get there?"

Samuel led me from the house where he had tied his horse to a tree, "we ride."


	5. Chapter 5

Samuel rode his horse hard over the terrain to Lexington. Maybe it was the excitement of the adventure, or maybe it was the chance to have my arms wrapped around him as I held him tight, fearful that I may fall of the horse, but I could not stop smiling.

Traveling we saw others making their way quietly, but quickly towards Lexington. We made it to Lexington by first light and Samuel tethered his horse to a tree away from the village green so as to avoid being spooked. Samuel took off his musket and sack draped over his should and placed them on the ground before we crouched down in the brush behind a large rock where we had a safe view of the green.

"Biscuit?" Samuel asked, pulling two biscuits out of his sack and handed me one which I graciously accepted with a rumbling of the stomach.

Devouring our meager meal, we watched as the sun rose upon the town of Lexington and a line of local militia under Captain John Parker form, he himself with a few others had been waiting for the British since before Samuel and I had arrived. A scout, Thaddeus Bowman, came riding in as if the devil himself was chasing him—he caused quite a commotion. He reported that not only were the British regulars approaching Lexington, they were almost 1,000 strong and only a few miles away, it would be less than an hour 'til their arrival. Oh what a stir his words caused!

"1,000 British troops!" I gasped and slumped back down behind the rock as Samuel continued his vigil watch. One thousand, I barely could see one hundred colonists on the green! Father said 'twas not numbers that helped win a battle, 'twas the spirit of the men fighting; spirit we patriots had, but I am sure numbers help an awful lot.

Captain Parker ordered the militia to line up in a wide, double rank, giving the illusion that there were more men than there actually were. There was an uneasy silence as we all waited, neither the militia nor Captain Parker had expected confront so many Redcoats. Other onlookers like ourselves had also gathered on the side of the green. They were gathered at the church, the Buckman Tavern, and a cluster watching from behind a stone wall, murmuring about the unexpected turn of events.

"I see my father—and yours Sarah! And your brothers, and your uncles." Samuel pointed them out and I rose to peer over the top of the rock once more. "'Tis not just, I should be out there with them," Samuel said quietly and scuffed the ground with his toe, "Samson is naught but a few months older than I and your father encourages it. My father and uncle are leaders in this time, and yet I have been told I am too young!" I could see the yearning in his eyes, and placed a hand on his to comfort him, but I knew naught what to say. We sat there in silence for a time before the British were spotted in the distance.

"Sarah-!" he pointed in awe at the sheer numbers of the British coming towards our few men.

"Stand your ground; don't fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here." Captain Parker cried.

But something was not right, the Regulars were not marching in formation, no, a broad line of thirty or so were making haste towards our men, muskets ready with bayonets attached! I heard the faint order come from the distance, "lay down your arms, you damned rebels!"

"I think Parker just gave the order for our men to disperse," Samuel stated, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Tis not right! They should face their foe, not turn and run!"

The British began to form a line, confronting ours. The British Major Pitcairn arrived from the rear of the advance force and led his three companies to the left and halted them. The remaining companies lay behind the village meeting house on the road back towards Boston. The order from both sides was heard to hold fire, my stomach was now caught in my throat and I grabbed Samuel's hand for comfort, but he noticed naught. His attention was full on the scene unfolding before him. Where terror was rising in me, excitement and patriotism was rising in him; I could see it in his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

There was confusion on the green, but I remember hearing the orders, "Do not fire, lay down your arms!" from both sides. Never did I hear the words "Prepare arms" or "Fire" uttered from either side, and yet, clear as day; the crack of a musket firing bellowed its deafening roar. My eyes have never popped wider and my skin so cold as the blood drained from my face. To this day, no one knows who fired the shot that was 'heard around the world." For it all happened oh so quickly, and with such confusion!

Without orders, the British troops responded to that first shot and began to fire. They formed ranks and fired volleys at Parker's line. All you could hear was the sound of the musket fire and the British drums, and white smoke covered the field. The strong stench of gunpowder was in the air. Major Pitcairn rode up and down his ranks waving his arms and giving the order to cease fire, but the sound was so deafening than his men did not hear him, or they paid him no heed. Few of our men returned fire. They were not trained militia, no they were farmers, and many had never seen battle before. They were untrained and confused, many began to turn and run. Father and my brothers stood their ground; father had fought before with Captain Parker, father had been a major in the French and Indian War, he had seen battle before, but my brothers did not. I cannot imagine what they were feeling out there on that line. I could not take my eyes off of them, squeezing Samuel's hand as I watched in terror as the British ran towards the militia with bayonets fixed—I saw as they ran Captain Parker's cousin, Jonas, through.

I could not watch anymore, my hands flew to shield my eyes for a second, but then slowly dropped to rest on my cheeks, I could not tear my eyes away from the green; I had to make sure my family was safe. I saw my father point back towards the stone wall and Henry and Samson shake their heads, they would not run. My brothers are brave men, brave to the point that they are almost stupid at times, especially Samson; Henry is the one with a good head on his shoulders. But determine those two were and cowards they were not. But my father would let his sons fall to pride, I saw him hit each of their bottoms with the shoulder of his gun to get them to move and he and Captain Parker retreated with them.

Colonel Smith ordered a drummer boy to sound a cease-fire. And it was over. The Regulars came to order. The grenadiers arrived shortly thereafter. Drawing his officers aside, Colonel Smith reminded them of their mission and what they were sent here to do. "These men are our kin," he reminded them.

I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that my father and brothers safe. Samuel's kinsmen were also unharmed. I silently said a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord for watching over those I loved so dearly.

Order was restored to the Regulars and the light infantry fired a victory volley, though their victory was won in bad form. After their little triumph, the officers ordered the column be reformed and they continue their march onto Concord.

As the British marched away, many of the onlookers and family of the militia approached the green, searching for their loved ones. Nine men were wounded and eight men died that day, their lives must forever be honored as the first casualties of our revolution. John Brown, Samuel Hadley, Caleb Harrington, Jonathon Harrington, Robert Munroe, Isaac Muzzey, Asahel Porter, and Jonas Parker; these men risked their lives for a better world and never saw it.

It is funny how much can change in a few short moments. The skirmish had lasted but a few minutes. But in those few minutes, the life of every American colonist had forevermore been changed.


	7. Chapter 7

Samuel could not get over the events which had transpired. Placing both hands on his head he walked in a circle replaying the whole thing, "The British lost order, they fired upon us! War has started! We lost the first battle." He was waving his arms like a mad man by this time.

"Stop it!" I cut him short and he turned to face me, "did you not see what just happened? People _died_."

"Your family is safe, we saw them—and your uncles," Samuel seemed confused at my distress; I could feel my face getting hot and my checks reddening.

"But other people's brothers, fathers, sons, uncles died. Jonas Parker was run through before our eyes! I've known him since I was a babe, you think I do not care?" I pointed out. I stood up so we were facing eye to eye, unyielding. Samuel and I witnessed the same event, but we saw it differently. He saw the glory in it, while I saw the tragedy which had just unfolded. We were not ready for war against such great a nation as Britain; I have been naïve to think so.

"Tis not over Sarah, you shall see. You have fought with Samson, I have seen it. He may be bigger and stronger than such a little mite as you, but he does not always win, in fact you have on many an occasion gotten the best of him. Think of it that way. You are a patriot, act like one." We stood staring at each other for a moment until something caught the corner of his eye, "They are rallying, 'tis not over!" he cried.

The fife and drum started 'Yankee Doodle' and the men shouted 'huzzah!'—their spirits rejuvenated, as were Samuel's. Chills came over my body; to this day the sound of the fife and drum rattling out that tune causes me chills.

The militia started to make way towards Concord, some on the main road, others taking a less obvious route through the back woods. "I will be a part of this." Samuel stated, slinging his musket over his shoulder.

"You are going to follow and watch?" I questioned, convinced we had seen enough for one day.

"I will not stand by and watch history in the making, I will be a _part _of _history_," he clarified as he started to take leave, "stay here and I will come back for you."

"Stay here?" I stopped in my place, looking at him in disgust, "Stay here?" I repeated, the words were bitter in my mouth, "You cannot go! Your father told you not to!" I yelled and I started to chase after him.

"Stay here," he called back to me over his shoulder as he jogged away, "I will come back for you, you have my word. I will come back for you Sarah." And I watched as he disappeared into the woods. Slowly turning around, I saw the aftermath on the green; families grieving the loss of their loved ones, the injured being given aid, and a desolate forest surrounded me.

"SAMUEL!" I cried once last time in a blood-curding scream. I could hear musket fire in the distance; and I was terrified. Cupping my red face in my hands I could not believe what had happened. Exhaustion and anger got the better of me; I broke down crying hysterically and slumped back down to the ground, hunched over crying into my pulled up knees. Eventually, cried myself to sleep there on the cold ground: hungry, drained, and alone. My dreams were plagued by images of loved ones dying at the hands of a merciless bayonet.

It was barely 8 a.m.


	8. Chapter 8

"She is not moving, is she shot? If she was shot I will tar and feather you and then hang you!" I heard my brother Samson threaten in his most serious and gruff tone, "Before I run you through with a bayonet!"

"Calm yourself Samson, she is but asleep." Henry replied rationally and squatted down on the ground. I felt his finger caress my cheek, "Time to wake little one." He cooed and on command my eyes fluttered open to see Henry, unscathed and Samson behind him holding Samuel by the collar, all of their faces as cold as the grave.

"We found this _traitor_," Samson spat the words, "in Concord. Telling us he left our _sister_ in the woods by Lexington green."

"Never thinking of the harm that may have befallen you if the militia had retreated to the woods," Henry added. Samuel sheepishly hung his head.

"Did you think before you acted?" Samson released his death grip on the boy and pushed him with both hands causing Samuel to stumble and fall backwards on the ground. Samson's temper was rising and Samuel knew it. They had been best mates long enough for Samuel to know the full fury of my brother's temper, and to know to stay clear of him. Samuel tried to backwards crawl away from my brother, never once taking his eyes off Samson. "It was bad enough you took her from her bed in the wee hours of the night to watch this carnage. That I could forgive, that is understandable in a way."

"I would disagree on that point," Henry interjected, standing up and crossing his arms.

"It was something we will live to tell our grandchildren, it is understandable." Samson waved Henry off in a softer tone, but then switching back into a more threatening voice, he continued, "But leaving her? You – left – her!" he over enunciated each word for emphasis. "Tell me why I should not shoot you here." He lifted his musket, pretending to take aim on Samuel's heart.

"Samson!" Henry shook his head at him, signaling that he had gone too far. Samson lowered his gun but continued to glare at the boy who, just hours ago, was hours ago his best mate.

"Samson, Henry, I am sorry!" Samuel pleaded with my brothers.

"Tis our sister you are accountable to." Henry said sternly, gesturing to the ground where I was still sitting.

"Sarah," he appealed to me, "I was not thinking, you must believe me. Please forgive me."

I looked from my brothers to Samuel and back again, "Samuel . . ." words did not come out of my mouth for I was in such shock at that point, I could not think, nor did I know what to say.

Henry reached down to help me get up and softly brushed the dirt and leaves off my skirt. "Tis time we go home," he said softly reaching for my hand he led me to his horse. 'Tis time to go," he repeated more sternly at Samson, grabbing his attention. Henry helped me onto his horse and then climbed up behind me, Samson slowly walked backwards to his horse, never taking his eyes off Samuel. He climbed up on his horse and followed Henry trot away. But then thinking twice, he turned his horse around and trotted back towards Samuel.

In a low, but not so gruff voice he again spoke, "Who leaves a young woman on the side of a battle field to chase his own glory? There is no honor in that. And she is _my sister;_ I thought we were best mates. As far as I am concerned you are a traitor to me and our friendship." He started to turn his horse away from Samuel ordering, "We are friends no more, and I never want to find you alone with her again."

Over Henry's shoulder I saw Samuel's frame crumble, shoulders bent and his head hung low. He just stood there, beaten; by the men he once called brothers.


End file.
